


You’re Welcome

by PotteredUp



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Awkward Crush, Birthday Party, Bisexual Quentin Coldwater, Dirty Dancing, First Kiss, Halloween, M/M, Making Out, Mutual Pining, Oblivious Eliot Waugh, Potions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-17
Updated: 2019-11-17
Packaged: 2021-02-07 14:37:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21459691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PotteredUp/pseuds/PotteredUp
Summary: On the morning after Halloween, the bulk of the Brakebills campus was hungover and raccoon-eyed from a night of magical drinking, partying, and having sex in Halloween makeup. Folks performed the walk of shame in disheveled costumes, squinting away from the bright sunlight on what was already becoming a crisp, clear fall day. But while those grad students were regretting their decisions and attempting not to make eye contact, Eliot Waugh had a party to plan.In which Eliot tries to keep his birthday a secret but he finds himself unable to resist two things; a good excuse to have a party and the adorable Quentin Coldwater.
Relationships: Quentin Coldwater/Eliot Waugh
Comments: 12
Kudos: 161





	You’re Welcome

On the morning after Halloween, the bulk of the Brakebills campus was hungover and raccoon-eyed from a night of magical drinking, partying, and having sex in Halloween makeup. Folks performed the walk of shame in disheveled costumes, squinting away from the bright sunlight on what was already becoming a crisp, clear fall day. But while _those_ grad students were regretting their decisions and attempting not to make eye contact, Eliot Waugh had a party to plan.

Eliot vehemently insisted on hosting his spooky fall-themed party every year on the night after Halloween. “This way, everyone will get Halloween out of their systems and nobody will show up to my party in lingerie with animal ears or request Monster Mash,” he would explain with a shudder before going back to preparing a much classier menu than your typical grapes-as-eyeballs and gummy worms in cookie crumb dirt. Only Margo knew the truth about his scheduling tendency and she had been sworn to secrecy.

“Remind me again why I can only share that today’s your birthday in emergency situations?” she asked him as she rounded the corner to the staircase, on her way to work on decorations upstairs.

Eliot’s eyes nearly bulged out of his head as he hushed her. “Keep it down, Bambi! We wouldn’t want anyone to hear you. And it’s only in _near-death dire emergencies_,” he reminded her, pausing his current task to give her a stern but loving look and then returning to baking an army of tiny single-serving apple pies with crescent moon shapes cut into the crust. 

She sighed. “Okay, El. But that’s putting a lot of pressure on my gift-giving abilities as the only one who knows,” Margo said as she climbed up. She was just turning to head down the hallway on her own, muttering, “Good thing I am fucking amazing at choosing gifts,” to herself when a freshly showered and dressed Quentin walked out of his bedroom door just in time to overhear.

“Gifts for what?” he asked, unable to resist his genuine curiosity. He normally tried to stay out of whatever Margo and Eliot were plotting (at least, until they inevitably roped him in), but he cared too much about his friends to accidentally show up somewhere without a gift if it was expected of him.

“Keep your voice down!” Margo hushed as she grabbed hold of Q’s shoulders and hurried him into her room next door. Her bedroom was momentarily filled with items that looked like they could’ve been picked directly from the _expensive_ section of the Halloween decor aisle. Wreaths that looked like twisted black trees, intricately woven spiderwebs that shimmered in the light, and glossy white sugar pumpkins covered every surface of the space while she was helping Eliot to prepare. They were clearly going all-out for this party.

Quentin was only temporarily distracted by the shiny things before he began to panic. “Am I supposed to bring a gift to the party later? Who is it for? Serious gift or like one of those swap games where you kind of want it to be something embarrassing? Is there like uh, uh, a spending limit?” Q started rambling, hands waving wildly in the air.

Margo shut her door behind them and rolled her eyes, knowing that Quentin was not going to get off of this particularly annoying thought train unless she told him the truth. “Ugh, fine. But if you tell Eliot I told you -”

“It’s for Eliot?! ...Oh God, I do _not_ have enough time to shop for Eliot by tonight. What if he hates what I pick for him? Does he even need anything? He has like a hundred vests. But I can’t not get him something if - wait, what’s the occasion?” Quentin continued, hardly even taking a break from his previous monologue before jumping headfirst into the next.

“Ugh, Coldwater. I swear, you shouldn’t get him anything, you’re not even supposed to know about it,” Margo said.

Quentin paused. “Know about... what?” he gently asked.

“Today... is El’s birthday,” Margo sighed. Perhaps the level of Quentin Coldwaterness happening here qualified as a near-death dire emergency.

His whole face shifted from panic to sadness. He turned the words over in his mouth for a second before saying, “Why didn’t he want me to know?” They were so small that he could barely even be heard.

Margo started busying herself with work, going through the decorations and sorting them to be brought downstairs later. “It’s nothing personal, Q. He just wants people to worship him because of his undeniable good looks, impeccable party planning, and excellent bartending skills; once people know it’s a birthday party, the whole vibe shifts,” she explained, not fully getting it herself. “I mean, who knows. He might want people to think he’s an immortal, ageless being and the idea of Eliot having a birthday like the rest of us would give it all away.”

Quentin had gone quiet again. Ever since he’d met Eliot, he had struggled to place his feelings for him. Yes, El was graceful and gorgeous and could command a room like nobody he had ever met, but also Quentin enjoyed talking to him and going along on his quieter adventures and even being mildly embarrassed by Eliot’s prodding questions about his sex life. He knew there was more to Eliot than his kingly reputation across the Brakebills campus and Quentin wanted to be in on the rest of Eliot the way that Margo was. “I just... I hope he knows he could trust me with that,” he breathed out in a whisper.

For a second, Margo lost her focus on the matter at hand and felt a growing realization forming. “Wait a second. Are you - holy shit, you like him,” she accused, a satisfied smile creeping across her face. She pointed a finger straight at Quentin as he started slowly backing away.

“Uhh, well, um, no?” he bumped into the door behind him, knowing full-well that this act was convincing no one, not even the judgmental pumpkins sitting on Margo’s bed.

“I can’t believe it took me this long to see it. You’re totally head-over-heels, aren’t you?” she continued, letting out a full-on laugh.

“Margo,” he pleaded, knowing that he was definitely blushing and that did not help his case.

At that, she lowered her finger, combing her gaze over Quentin from head to toe. “I know what you should give Eliot for his birthday,” she mentioned, seemingly out of nowhere.

“...What?” Quentin was still trying to shake off the warm pink glow that went from his face all the way down to his chest; he had temporarily forgotten that he was trying to think of a birthday gift for Eliot.

“A blowjob.”

“WHAT.”

“Kidding,” she offered when that suggestion didn’t go over well.

When a bright red Quentin continued to stare at her with a look of pure terror on his face, she altered her approach. “Dress up for the party later. Not in a costume; in nice clothing. I’ll help. And later at the party, tell Eliot.” Margo suggested this time, placing additional emphasis on the last two words. She didn’t need to elaborate.

Quentin, who had recovered slightly, was definitely not letting his guard down. “Really, Margo? Why, so he can laugh at me too? Is it really that funny that I have a huge crush on the guy who gets more action in a week than I’ve had in a year?”

“I think you’ll be surprised, puppy. I know I’m tough on you but I wouldn’t suggest it if I thought you’d get tragically rejected,” Margo reached over, tucking Quentin’s hair behind his ear.

“Wait,” Q paused. “Are you saying you think he’d actually... want me too?”

“I’ve already said too much. Now go pick something out,” she said, turning Q around and opening up her door. “Dark colors. Soft textures. I’ll be over in a few.”

And with that, he was pushed out into the hallway alone.   


* * *

As someone who could not hide his emotions to save his life (outside of card games, at least), Quentin did his best to avoid running into Eliot before the party. He failed spectacularly at this. 

At first, he paced around his room, keeping an eye on the time and trying not to think too hard about how nervous he was. His outfit had been chosen and approved by Margo and there wasn’t much left to do before the party (aside from shopping for a less terrifying present). But the longer he waited, the more he wanted to try and sneak out of the Physical Kids Cottage to get some fresh air and distractions.

So of course, the minute Quentin tiptoed downstairs to make a break for the front door, Eliot happened to be passing by on his way from the dining room to the bar.

“Quentin! You’re coming to the party, right?” Eliot asked excitedly, brushing Q’s arm as he walked past. He dropped off some specialty garnishes for his custom drink menu at the bar, then spun around again to catch up with a deliciously frazzled-looking Quentin.

“Oh! Um, mmhmm!” Q replied, attempting to bounce back from the sudden appearance of the exact person he was avoiding and playing it cool by using as many non-words and ‘m’ sounds as possible. He ran a hand through his hair to push it back out of his face, as it had flopped directly over one eye in his haste to escape.

Eliot eyed him curiously, trying to figure out what was going on inside the head of his favorite first year in this particular moment. He couldn’t hide his amusement over the way Quentin became so easily flustered and the resulting smile broke out across Eliot’s face almost instantaneously. “Good. There will be dancing so you’d better save me one. Don’t bail on me, Coldwater,” Eliot said, lightly kicking Quentin’s shoe with the toe of his boot for emphasis.

“Right, okay El. See you?” Quentin managed a few extra words this time as he backed away towards the door. The idea that Eliot wanted to dance with him at the party may have further solidified the concept he had been grappling with since his conversation with Margo. Perhaps his attraction to Eliot _wasn’t_ as one-sided as he previously assumed.

And with that, Quentin awkwardly waved goodbye and headed out, leaving Eliot alone with the remains of his party prep task list.

Eliot let out the breath he had unconsciously been holding and continued to stare at the door for a minute after Q had gone through it. Then, realizing that he’d been lost in thought for a few seconds too long, he snapped out of his trance and went back to setting up the bar for the party.

Okay, so maybe the secret birthday party wasn’t his _only_ motivation for hosting a really stellar gathering that night. Eliot Waugh was man enough to admit, at least to himself, that a sizable part of him really just wanted another opportunity to impress Quentin Coldwater.   


* * *

Hours had passed and the party was well underway by the time Quentin returned from his trip to anywhere-but-here, clutching a nervously crumpled shopping bag. He had avoided returning too early, gotten sidetracked and hungry, and before he knew it, he was pushing his way through a crowd in the dim light so he could get upstairs to his bedroom. He felt incredibly underdressed during the minute it took him to quietly mutter “Excuse me,” to a bunch of drunk but dressed up grad students who were in his way and Q suddenly felt really glad that Margo had been so pushy about his attire for tonight. 

After peeling off the comfy layers of well-worn clothing he’d had on all day, Quentin stepped into the significantly dressier outfit Margo placed aside for him. He reached into the worn paper bag, which had taken the brunt of the nervous energy in his hands during the trip home, and slipped its contents into the inside pocket of his suit jacket.

He attempted to remind himself that this could actually go well, despite all odds, and tried to picture the way Eliot had looked at him that afternoon. But no matter how many times he relived the conversation with Margo in his head, he just couldn’t find the confidence to believe that someone as gorgeous and worldly as Eliot Waugh would actually want _him_.

By the time he was ready to go downstairs, Quentin had prepared himself for the more than likely reality that tonight would be an embarrassing disaster.

* * *

Meanwhile, Eliot was having the fucking time of his life. At least, he had been channeling an extraordinary amount of effort into making everyone believe that. And once Eliot had committed to a performance, there was no going back.

He juggled drink ingredients in a flashy show of skill while onlookers clapped politely and then he returned to the common room with a tray of dark-colored cocktails that were claimed just as quickly as he’d hoped. And like all of his concoctions, they contained a subtle element of magic beyond the carefully chosen spirits. He wanted his guests to maintain the mood he was going for and they didn’t seem to mind as they sipped, swallowed, and partied without hesitation once again. Eliot had a certain reputation for making drinks that made your worries melt away and they kept this subsection of the Brakebills student population coming back for more.

Across the cottage, he finally spotted Quentin, who was not properly dressed and who headed straight upstairs without even a passing glance around the room. Eliot’s heart sank for a moment even though he knew that the rowdier parties were not really Quentin’s cup of tea. Somewhere deep down, he had hoped that Q would somehow sense that this night was different, more important to Eliot, and stick around a bit longer.

After he snapped out of the momentary funk, Eliot handed off the empty tray to someone Todd-like and immediately used his free hands to lower the lights and turn up the music with a flourish of tuts. Dancing was exactly what he needed to get his mind off of the adorable but probably straight nerd boy with the floppy hair.

So Eliot shook off those nasty, inconvenient _feelings_ and made his way into the middle of the tightly moving group that was forming in the middle of the floor. The bass thumped under his feet, pleasantly vibrating against the soles of his leather shoes.

As soon as he arrived, nameless classmates he normally wouldn’t give a second glance to were grinding up on him and even brushing their hands across his arms and chest. Those _extra_ ingredients that encouraged everyone to be as tactile and affectionate as Eliot were kicking in right on schedule. They may not have been the exact hands he wanted to feel all over him, but they would do for now. Eliot’s eyes fluttered closed and without looking back, he fully immersed himself in moving along with the music.

He couldn’t be certain how much time had passed, but during one particular song change, the crowd around him shifted enough to pull Eliot out of his trance. A few folks left and were replaced with new ones who Eliot welcomed politely enough. But as his eyes took in more than his immediate surroundings for the first time in a while, he caught the gaze of a very dapper-looking Quentin Coldwater across the room. The realization that Q _had_ decided to attend after all sent a rush of warmth through Eliot.

Q, however, froze in a bit of a panic at being caught staring. He had properly joined the party in time to discover that Eliot was getting tons of attention in the middle of the makeshift dance floor, which, you know, wasn’t intimidating at _all_ given what he intended to reveal tonight.

Luckily, _Eliot_ had no problem being his usual flirtatious self around his crushes and he intended to claim the dance he was promised earlier. Raising an eyebrow, he happily beckoned Quentin over. “Hey Coldwater, c’mere!” he called over the loud music with a mischievous grin on his face.

Over the next few agonizingly slow minutes, Quentin started at the edge of the crowd and slowly worked his way over to Eliot. “Um, excuse me. Could I get past you, please? Sorry... sorry. Oh, um, coming through,” Q kept muttering, shifting around couples and ducking under flying limbs. Eliot, of course, found this to be _fucking adorable_ so he didn’t necessarily try to make himself any easier to get to.

Once Eliot was just about within reach, Q tapped the young gentleman grinding backwards into El on the shoulder to get his attention. “Hi, um, could I just, get in there for a minute? That’s um, I said I’d dance with my friend Eliot,” he called out.

And _that’s_ when Eliot stepped in to help, moving the rejected guy aside to clear room for Quentin. “Thanks Jake, you were great!” Eliot called out as he sent the dude away.

Q thought he heard someone yell, “It’s Jared, asshole!” but now all he could think about was how nervous he was. Swallowing back the fear, he started to dance.

Eliot reached out for Quentin’s hand and pulled him in closer, effectively skipping over any awkwardness. “About time you showed up!” El teased into Q’s ear, only letting go of Quentin once he was right in front of him and actually moving like the rest of them.

“Sorry, I lost track of time and Margo made me wear so many layers -” Q said back. He was actually a good little mover once he got past the nerves. “Anyway, you looked busy. I didn’t want to interrupt.”

“Oh, them?” Eliot said, throwing a lazy glance over at his previous dance partners who had moved on to other people once he’d pushed what’s-his-name away. “Right now, I’m all yours. Keep dancing like _that_ and you’ll have nothing to worry about,” El added.

Quentin blushed but he kept on dancing. “What’s so funny? This is just how I dance,” he mock-whined.

El grinned, taking in the sight just inches away from him. Quentin was wearing a dark gray suit that fit him perfectly, with a deep violet button-up underneath it. “You look good, Q,” he admitted honestly, switching gears from his plan to nag him. Eliot loved the way Quentin would usually squirm under his gaze and compliments, but this time, Q seemed too focused on what he was doing to react to something like that.

And that’s because Quentin was working up the courage to move in, to rub against Eliot, to touch him maybe just a little. For the next half a song, Quentin tried to hide the fact that he was planning his approach but he kept hesitating and pulling his reaching hands back as soon as his nervousness took over.

Of course, Eliot noticed that this was happening and tried something more direct. He leaned in near Quentin’s ear and quietly encouraged him, “Q, I won’t bite. You can get closer.”

Quentin shivered at the feeling of Eliot’s warm breath on his ear and obliged before he could chicken out. He nestled right up to Eliot’s chest, finding right away that he fit perfectly there, despite the obvious height difference. And as soon as he started to move again, Quentin was surprised to find that this felt really good. Nobody stepped on anyone’s toes. It just felt warm and exciting and _right_. Who could have guessed that their bodies would be so compatible?

They moved like that for a while, rubbing up against each other. Q kept getting the urge to say something, to ask if this was normal, to comment on literally anything, but he was worried that the dancing would stop or that Eliot would switch his attention to one of the beautiful people around him if he did.

On the other side, Eliot kind of couldn’t believe that Quentin Coldwater, of all people, was grinding up against him. Ever since they’d met, he’d written off every awkward, nervous response to his advances as not entirely surprising given that Q was a probably-straight boy who didn’t know how to respond when another man flirted with him. He was even prepared to follow up the request for closeness by pretending it was a joke. Instead, he started rocking his hips, burying his face in Quentin’s hair, and grazing his hands along the tight muscles of Quentin’s lower back.

And then Eliot felt something hard and familiar rub against his thigh. Q tensed up and backed up on instinct as the surprise wave of pleasure and terror washed through him. Maybe it wasn’t exactly surprising that all of this electric contact had contributed to the start of an erection, but now he had accidentally pressed it onto Eliot’s leg and was horribly embarrassed about it.

Eliot’s heart sank as he automatically assumed that his only chance with Q was coming to an end, but a tiny spark of hope lit a fire inside him and he looked directly into Quentin’s eyes. Without saying anything, he sent the most intense, heartfelt look Q’s way. His eyes said, “It’s alright.” They told him, “I still want you here.” They pleaded, “_Don’t go_.” Okay, maybe he accidentally said that last one out loud.

Heart pounding, a furiously blushing Quentin took one look at Eliot’s expression and made a split second decision. He rushed forward, stood up as tall as he could, and pressed one gentle kiss onto Eliot’s mouth. Then, he pulled away and hesitantly looked up to gauge El’s reaction, totally prepared to make a run for it if kissing Eliot turned out to be a terrible idea. 

But Eliot didn’t appear to be upset or offended by the gesture. He looked a little surprised, sure, but he was definitely excited about this turn of events as he towered over Quentin on the dance floor.

Before they knew it, they were reaching for each other, grabbing desperately onto sleeves and necks and shoulders before kissing again. This time, that nervous hesitation had been thrown out the window. Butterflies danced in Quentin’s stomach as he more than gladly opened his mouth to Eliot’s exploring tongue and he didn’t even want to hold back the tiny moaning sounds that kept escaping from the back of his throat as Eliot pulled him close. He had never been kissed quite like this before and the fact that it was happening with someone who he had admired for months made it feel ten times more incredible.

Eliot, who was now having a _very_ good birthday, had never been happier to be wrong about his initial read on someone’s sexuality.

* * *

When the allure of the dance floor wore out, a dazed Eliot pulled Quentin by the hand from the crowd to find a nook with a bit more privacy. The cottage had plenty of corners and quiet spots if you needed them, and luckily, they quickly found one that was unoccupied.

Between kisses and gasps for air, they attempted to string together some semblance of a conversation about how they got here.

“So are you actually into guys or is this some kind of experimental phase? One that I’m seriously enjoying, by the way,” Eliot purred before nuzzling into Quentin’s neck and kissing his pulse point.

“No, um, I am definitely very into you,” Quentin whimpered and ran his hands up and down Eliot’s back as he enjoyed the feeling of having El’s incredibly tall frame pressing his smaller body up against the wall.

Eliot grinned, practically giddy to hear that answer, and lifted his head. “You are full of surprises.” He slipped his arms around Quentin’s middle, brushing past something that was taking up space in his suit pocket. “What’s in here?” he asked, motioning towards it.

“Oh, right!” Quentin had almost forgotten. He paused the make-out session, reached into the pocket, and pulled out a wrapped package, which he handed to Eliot. “I know I wasn’t supposed to know, but once I found out, I couldn’t not get you a birthday present.”

“_Bambi_,” Eliot sighed and rolled his eyes, but the prospect of having both a present and a cute boy to unwrap lessened his frustration. He tore into the paper to reveal a small notebook with a black leather-bound cover and opened it curiously.

Quentin leaned forward to show him. “It’s a place for you to write down your drink ideas and recipes and I, um... it’s enchanted to adjust the measurements for however many people you’re making them for, so you don’t have to uh, y’know, worry about the balance being off as you increase the amount,” he elaborated, blushing as he revealed just how much thought and work he’d put into the gift. No wonder he was late to the party.

Suffice it to say that El was very much won over by the gesture and told Quentin as much by rushing in to kiss him full on the mouth. And as they moved their party of two up the Physical Kids Cottage stairs, a smug Margo called out her two cents from the dining room as they turned the corner to the bedrooms.

“YOU’RE WELCOME.”


End file.
